


The Unbeliever’s Prayer

by thehobbem



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Angst, Gen, Prayer, Strength, akayona ch.23, akayona ep.13, inner thoughts, that scene with him just HAUNTED me so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 03:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9053116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehobbem/pseuds/thehobbem
Summary: Hak angst during the events of chapter 23/episode 13; a brief examination of Hak’s beliefs or lack thereof.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bbysquirrelblog](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Bbysquirrelblog).



He stared as the dust finally settled down.

“You can’t be serious…”

Hak had never believed in gods.

Or rather, he’d never really thought of them. As a general, he had to know all about the history of Kouka, and that included its creation myth. Gramps had told him about the Red Dragon who’d come down from the Heavens to live among mortals; he’d also heard Kan Soo-Jin mumble about how the Fire Tribe descended directly from King Hiryuu - not that he’d ever given _that_ any attention, let alone credit. The Fire Tribe General was demented.

(And he’d heard Soo-Won tell that story in incredible detail time and time again as a child, eyes lit up with excitement; when the princess repeated the tale to the priest, he’d felt that unpleasant pang of familiarity and nostalgia that was best left untouched.)

In a daze, Hak staggered towards the now closed passage with a clenching feeling in his gut.

“Princess…”

Staring at the wall of rock he felt once again how little the gods mattered or cared. They were supposed to be these wondrous celestial beings, standing right outside the scope of human understanding, far above mortals and their petty struggles. They didn’t listen to humans, certainly not to him.

And so, Hak had never believed or disbelieved in gods. He’d just… been content to stick to the silent agreement he seemed to have with them: mutual indifference. Clearly human life was no more in their hands than the princess’s was in his, as much as it wounded him to admit it.

He snapped into despair.

“Princess!”

And as he clawed at the rocks in the dark he continued not believing. It was too late to go back on that deal. But he had _always_ believed in Strength. In its every shape and form.

Like every time Tae-Yeon had an asthma attack, for example. The way he tried to smile while gasping for air, struggling to tell Gramps not to worry, that was sheer courage. Back in Fuuga, in what seemed eons ago, Hak had once tried to hold his breath for as long as possible, standing perfectly still, to see what it felt like to not find enough air in your lungs, to not be able to do what the rest of the world took for granted. And it had terrified him. As the minutes had passed him by, leaving him behind, he'd felt like he was fading from existence, as if he were drowning and would never find his way back to the surface. How such a small child was able to withstand it on a regular basis was beyond him.

The determination Tae-Woo had armed himself with in order to step up to a position he was afraid might just be too much for him to handle. Despite his fear of not being good enough and letting everyone down, he’d still faced it head on. Looking his usual nonchalant self all the while.

The way Han-Dae was invariably cheerful, no matter what situation he found himself in. How he kept his head clear in a crisis and made those around him smile, even in desperate times.

Those were the things he believed in.

Hak's hands bled all over the rocks but he didn't even feel it, trying to frantically dig his way back to her with his bare hands.

“Yoon! White Snake!”

Yoon, who had lived in starvation, fighting for survival; who’d spent years taking care of that scatterbrained priest all by himself.

The White Snake, who had never known the world outside Hakuryuu village, but had not hesitated to follow the princess, his own comfort and safety be damned. Who had never fought anyone before, but still had wasted no time in putting his life on the line for her.

He believed in that.

 _“I’ll be careful not to let anything like that happen again!”_ , she’d said, with those big amethyst eyes that had him hypnotized every time. What option did he have but to agree? He knew he would say yes in the end, and had long given up wondering whether he’d ever be able to deny her anything.

She was the strongest person he knew. She’d lost everything, _everything,_ and had soldiered on. She’d cut her hair and taken up a sword and _fought_. For him. With those skinny arms and soft, small hands of hers. She hadn’t shed a single tear about her own wounds or the hair so savagely cut. Instead, she’d learned how to use a bow and endured everything the gods had decided to throw her way.

He punched the wall in a desperate fury. It was useless, all of it. _He_ was useless.

The only asset he'd ever had was his beast-like strength, the one thing he could offer her. But on the day he'd freed a tiny, frightened Yona from her kidnappers, a lifetime ago, she'd hugged him. She'd run straight into his arms and held on to his neck as if there were no safer place in the world to be, and he realized then he had something else to give: himself.

More than endless training or fighting or carrying his glaive day in and day out, that was where he believed his true power lay: being unwaveringly hers. He’d always be there when she needed him, and that feeling made him stronger, made him better, allowed him the illusion that he would never fail her – unlike the rest of the world and the gods themselves.

But now even that had become worthless.

_I shouldn’t have let her go…_

_Why didn’t I anticipate this?_

_I can’t believe I failed to protect her here…_

Just as he had failed to protect the King.

Hak had despised and insulted him behind his back, much to Mundok’s chagrin. He’d thought King Il was a man afraid of making difficult decisions, who feared conflict and pain and blood and weapons. Who was weak.

But he'd stepped right between Hak and some guy, had stopped a sword with his own hands and smiled at the man who yielded it. _That_ finally got him the oath the future general of the Wind tribe had refused to give that very same day. The King had then calmly walked away, hiding from his daughter the deep cut and the blood in his hands, as if they did not matter.

That had been the first time Hak thought about the different shapes strength could take. He’d just witnessed something different, not like his or Mundok’s or Geun-Tae’s flashy kind of power, but something rather more… understated. King Il might not have been the wisest king to have reigned over Kouka, he knew that now; but he would never let anyone tell him the King had been a weak man.

And Hak had failed him and his daughter.

When the princess had stood in the way and _demanded_ to go with him, he hadn’t wanted to comply, it was way too dangerous – but at the same time he had wanted nothing more than to obey and have her by his side. He _knew_ she’d be safer in Fuuga, he _knew_ Mundok and the others would take care of her, but he just couldn’t say no. “Give yourself to me”. Please, as if he could remember a time when he had not been hers. But he’d felt like his chest would burst all the same. He’d been weak.

He’d been _glad_ she was with him. She was in the middle of nowhere, eating whatever, sleeping on the ground, fatherless, friendless, exhausted, and a small part of him had been selfishly glad.

This was the result. That was his fault, and his fault alone.

Hak had never believed in gods, and was not about to start now. The gods had never done anything for him, he had nothing to say to them. But he _had_ believed in King Il, in his warmth and kindness; in the King who had given him the one thing his happiness truly hinged upon.

He buried his face in his hands, and his voice broke with tears as he prayed for the first time in his life.

“Please, King Il… Don’t take her from me”

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically the first fic I ever wrote, so please be gentle. It was written as a birthday gift, but since people liked it, I thought "well, why not?". So here it is!


End file.
